[ tvd ] the build-up.
the build-up
damon salvatore. damon/katherine. stefan/katherine & damon/elena if you squint.
comment ficathon. after a century, you find that things stop mattering.
the days blur into weeks. the weeks blur into months. months into years, years into decades, and then-
then a century passes by, and he is empty. damon likes to think that he hates stefan, because that is who he has become to be, and that is what this has led them to. because she chose stefan and stefan turned him because he didn't want to be alone. because his brother is a selfish, lonely bastard by nature. becausebecausebecause.
damon thinks that he was better off left to die.
he used to spend his days chasing after a woman he once loved. now he chases for answers, for a fuck you, for the idea of revenge, for a reason to keep running, because without this hate, this all-encompassing hatred that chokes and burns more than the wrath of apollo, damon is without a raison d'etre. death is not an option at this point. not with katherine still out there, not with his unanswered questions, not with his existential crisis still burning in his mind.
he runs faster.
(he can't have the past catch up to him.)
.
- then he stops.
damon punches a hole through a century-old tree and takes satisfaction with watching it crumple. the noise is makes echoes for minutes after, but he doesn't care.
… he doesn't care.
this revelation-this one sentence that he'd repeated countless times to elena, to stefan, to everyone who'd been hurt because of him-he's never really not cared, because of katherine.
he tries to picture her now-she's always been beautiful, with the gentle slope of her cheeks, her thick eyelashes, the way she curved her lips up in a coquettish way that he'd fallen for. her laughter came next; it was the unbridled, from-the-belly kind of laughter that he loved hearing from her, when it was just her and him and she hadn't a care in the world.
(but she'd been compelling him then, hadn't she? so it wasn't real. none of it was. he's never truly not cared.)
.
not caring is a new feeling to him.
he loves it.
.
she appears (of course) a week after he decides to stop running. he's sitting in a bar, watching the flashing lights and drunken people blur by him, downing bottle after bottle of liquor. the alcohol slides into his throat with a satisfying burn, and he keeps them coming, trying to get wasted. it isn't possible, with the whole vampire venom thing, and that's one thing he's added to the list of reasons to hate (stefan) being a vampire. (but he's decided not to hate, and that is a very difficult thing for him. it's so damn close to impossible that he's absolutely determined not to, just to prove to the world that in his chest was not a dry, cold lump of coal.)
"hello, damon." her voice has that lilt to it that he recognises so well.
"katherine," he returns, and he barely manages to keep the sneer back.
"you've stopped chasing after me." she slides onto the stool next to him, keeping a cool distance that he doesn't quite understand. she looks the same as always, just without the fancy corsets and dresses. (she looks like elena.)
damon raises his eyebrows, "no, really? i hadn't noticed."
she ignores him. "why?"
his shoulders raise slightly. he pretends to be drunk, and then he wonders if he can compel himself through a mirror to make himself act drunk, forget everything, get wasted, and leave the hangover bit out. "because," he drawls out, "i just don't care anymore."
clearly, katherine doesn't like his answer, through the way she frowns and suddenly focuses all of her attention on him. "you have to care," she says, sounding rather petulant. she slides closer to him, puts her hand gently on his knee. he moves away.
"why?" he peers at her. she stares him down, but flinches when he suddenly moves towards her. it's a minor victory, but he has to wonder-when, exactly, was she ever intimidated by him? "because stefan has a new girlfriend, and no one loves you because you're an attention-seeking who-?"
and she kisses him. it's such a katherine move, trying to distract a man into doing what she wants, that he actually laughs. the oldest trick in the book, as one would say, and he almost kisses back. (but for a moment--and he will never admit this--he is entranced with her eyes, the exact duplicate of elena's.)
"you're getting sloppy," he informs her, and he isn't talking about the kiss but the tact and build-up (or lack, thereof) before it, but katherine thinks he is and scowls deeply. it's an unattractive expression on her. then, "what do you want from me?"
it's a question that throws her off. perhaps if he were stefan, she would have an answer ready-"you," she would say with conviction, and proceed to threaten every single person he loves. classic katherine. but he is not stefan, and he doesn't have anything she needs, because she has never needed him-just someone to keep her ego alive and thrumming.
he knows what she wants, anyways. she wants him to keep running after her. she wants to know that someone still wants her. she wants to keep him as a reminder of her past, however painful it may be. but she will never say this. and so he says the one last thing for her.
"unlike you, i'm not afraid to be alone."
damon stands, throwing a wad of bills on the counter before going out the door. this time, he has the last word, so of course--
she follows.
.
he leaves her before the sun rises. she's still sleeping. looking at her now, it's painfully nostalgic. he might've loved her, once, and this brings up a torrent of memories he doesn't want to remember. all the sheets are wrapped around her, having tugged them away from him sometime in the night. he thinks it may be symbolic, but symbolism has always escaped him, so he doesn't dwell on it.
damon thinks of leaving a note, but decides that she isn't worth the effort. never was, really.
so he runs again, but for a different reason.
(she'll be the one chasing after him, this time.)
damon salvatore. damon/katherine. stefan/katherine & damon/elena if you squint.
comment ficathon. after a century, you find that things stop mattering.
the days blur into weeks. the weeks blur into months. months into years, years into decades, and then-
then a century passes by, and he is empty. damon likes to think that he hates stefan, because that is who he has become to be, and that is what this has led them to. because she chose stefan and stefan turned him because he didn't want to be alone. because his brother is a selfish, lonely bastard by nature. becausebecausebecause.
damon thinks that he was better off left to die.
he used to spend his days chasing after a woman he once loved. now he chases for answers, for a fuck you, for the idea of revenge, for a reason to keep running, because without this hate, this all-encompassing hatred that chokes and burns more than the wrath of apollo, damon is without a raison d'etre. death is not an option at this point. not with katherine still out there, not with his unanswered questions, not with his existential crisis still burning in his mind.
he runs faster.
(he can't have the past catch up to him.)
.
- then he stops.
damon punches a hole through a century-old tree and takes satisfaction with watching it crumple. the noise is makes echoes for minutes after, but he doesn't care.
… he doesn't care.
this revelation-this one sentence that he'd repeated countless times to elena, to stefan, to everyone who'd been hurt because of him-he's never really not cared, because of katherine.
he tries to picture her now-she's always been beautiful, with the gentle slope of her cheeks, her thick eyelashes, the way she curved her lips up in a coquettish way that he'd fallen for. her laughter came next; it was the unbridled, from-the-belly kind of laughter that he loved hearing from her, when it was just her and him and she hadn't a care in the world.
(but she'd been compelling him then, hadn't she? so it wasn't real. none of it was. he's never truly not cared.)
.
not caring is a new feeling to him.
he loves it.
.
she appears (of course) a week after he decides to stop running. he's sitting in a bar, watching the flashing lights and drunken people blur by him, downing bottle after bottle of liquor. the alcohol slides into his throat with a satisfying burn, and he keeps them coming, trying to get wasted. it isn't possible, with the whole vampire venom thing, and that's one thing he's added to the list of reasons to hate (stefan) being a vampire. (but he's decided not to hate, and that is a very difficult thing for him. it's so damn close to impossible that he's absolutely determined not to, just to prove to the world that in his chest was not a dry, cold lump of coal.)
"hello, damon." her voice has that lilt to it that he recognises so well.
"katherine," he returns, and he barely manages to keep the sneer back.
"you've stopped chasing after me." she slides onto the stool next to him, keeping a cool distance that he doesn't quite understand. she looks the same as always, just without the fancy corsets and dresses. (she looks like elena.)
damon raises his eyebrows, "no, really? i hadn't noticed."
she ignores him. "why?"
his shoulders raise slightly. he pretends to be drunk, and then he wonders if he can compel himself through a mirror to make himself act drunk, forget everything, get wasted, and leave the hangover bit out. "because," he drawls out, "i just don't care anymore."
clearly, katherine doesn't like his answer, through the way she frowns and suddenly focuses all of her attention on him. "you have to care," she says, sounding rather petulant. she slides closer to him, puts her hand gently on his knee. he moves away.
"why?" he peers at her. she stares him down, but flinches when he suddenly moves towards her. it's a minor victory, but he has to wonder-when, exactly, was she ever intimidated by him? "because stefan has a new girlfriend, and no one loves you because you're an attention-seeking who-?"
and she kisses him. it's such a katherine move, trying to distract a man into doing what she wants, that he actually laughs. the oldest trick in the book, as one would say, and he almost kisses back. (but for a moment--and he will never admit this--he is entranced with her eyes, the exact duplicate of elena's.)
"you're getting sloppy," he informs her, and he isn't talking about the kiss but the tact and build-up (or lack, thereof) before it, but katherine thinks he is and scowls deeply. it's an unattractive expression on her. then, "what do you want from me?"
it's a question that throws her off. perhaps if he were stefan, she would have an answer ready-"you," she would say with conviction, and proceed to threaten every single person he loves. classic katherine. but he is not stefan, and he doesn't have anything she needs, because she has never needed him-just someone to keep her ego alive and thrumming.
he knows what she wants, anyways. she wants him to keep running after her. she wants to know that someone still wants her. she wants to keep him as a reminder of her past, however painful it may be. but she will never say this. and so he says the one last thing for her.
"unlike you, i'm not afraid to be alone."
damon stands, throwing a wad of bills on the counter before going out the door. this time, he has the last word, so of course--
she follows.
.
he leaves her before the sun rises. she's still sleeping. looking at her now, it's painfully nostalgic. he might've loved her, once, and this brings up a torrent of memories he doesn't want to remember. all the sheets are wrapped around her, having tugged them away from him sometime in the night. he thinks it may be symbolic, but symbolism has always escaped him, so he doesn't dwell on it.
damon thinks of leaving a note, but decides that she isn't worth the effort. never was, really.
so he runs again, but for a different reason.
(she'll be the one chasing after him, this time.)